Kinda Sorta
by Snow Duchess
Summary: Back by popular demand! Ch. 1 Willow has a dilemma, and it involves a certain blonde vampire slayer. Ch. 2 Buffy's plight involving a certain redheaded witch.
1. Willow

Kinda Sorta

_Disclaimer: All rights belong to Joss Whedon and ME._

_Summary: Willow has a dilemma, and it involves a certain blonde vampire slayer. Post-Oz, pre-Tara._

_Author's note: I don't usually attempt fics of pointless fluff, and humor isn't really my area of expertise, but I'm feeling adventurous.  
_

* * *

Okay, so I have this problem. I _may_ have kinda sorta groped my best friend. I didn't try to. I wasn't even awake, which of course tells you that I was dreaming of something I shouldn't have been dreaming about. But what girl doesn't fantasize about her best friend? Right? …_Right_? 

Anyway, Buffy got into a bit of rough and tumble with a horny demon in our dorm room that left her bed covered in less than desirable substances, and I'm just now realizing how wrong that sounded. I meant horny as in 'having horns.' I mean, the demon could have been the other kind of horny, but we wouldn't really know unless we asked it, and we can't because it's dead, and also...ew.

So, getting back on track, it was late at night and neither of us had an extra set of bed linens, so I did what any best friend would do: I offered her _my_ bed, not thinking about (read: completely thinking about) the situation that it would land me in. See, I couldn't let my best friend sleep on the floor, and I _knew_ Buffy wasn't going to let _me_ take the floor, so we were going to have to share. No biggie. We've shared a bed on many a sleepover. Of course, that was back when we were safe in high school before I figured out I was kinda gay with repressed crushy feelings for a certain blonde vampire slayer.

Badness ensued. Two people plus one bed multiplied by one innate cuddler equals much (un)intentional gropage. It's not my fault if my hand happened to _accidentally_ brush against her boob.

…Okay, so actually, my hand landed directly _on_ her boob, and there may have been caressing.

And squeezing.

Maybe some moaning…

…of her name.

But I was asleep, I swear! Buffy woke up, of course, and shook me awake.

"Wha…?" I mumbled.

"Willow, hands in new and awkward places."

My eyes flew open, and I shot up so fast that I think I startled her. I rattled off random excuses that I hoped she would buy, but my hazy mind obviously couldn't make 'I know you think I said Buffy, but you'd be wrong mister because I said Biffy because there's a cute guy in my chem. class named Biff' sound convincing.

"Wills, it's okay. I mean, what girl doesn't fantasize about her best friend?"

I guess gay minds—I mean, great minds think alike. I'm pretty sure my jaw hit the floor and my eyes fell out of their sockets. I almost, _almost_, told her about my kinda gayness, but at the last second, I closed my mouth and swallowed the words. No sense in bursting her bubble just yet, especially since the idea of 'bursting her bubble' led to other very naughty thoughts that I'm not sure she'd be ready to participate in.

Instead, I nodded.

Buffy smiled and pulled me into a hug. "I kinda love ya, Wills."

More naughty thoughts and a few tingly sensations. "I…kinda…love you, too, Buff."

The blonde laid back down and feel asleep in minutes. I, on the other hand, continue to lay here awake, tense, and just a little bit horny, and this time I _don't _mean the 'with horns' kind. Buffy's alarm goes off, and I still haven't fallen asleep for fear of inappropriate touching again. I pretend to be asleep as she gets out of bed.

I have to tell her. I'm going to have to just come out and say it, so to speak. As Buffy comes back from the bathroom, I open my mouth and force my tongue to work in the traditional less fun sense…

…and no sound comes out. I figure my subconscious is just trying to protect me from humiliation. Buffy asks a voiceless 'what?' and we both look confused. Laryngitis? Sudden deafness? A bunch of demons that wanted to rip our hearts out? I don't really care, because I have an excuse to put off my coming out!

Yeah, I know. I'm kinda sorta a coward.

_End._


	2. Buffy

Kinda Sorta

_Disclaimer: All rights belong to Joss Whedon and ME._

_Summary: Back by popular demand, I give you Buffy's plight involving a certain redheaded witch._

* * *

Alright, so I kinda have this thing. It's really not a big deal. At least, I don't _think_ it's a big deal. You know how some things aren't really a big deal, but you think they're a big deal, so they end up getting blown way out of proportion and become a really big deal, and it's all your fault? Yeah, like one of those. 

Okay, so the thing is, I think I accidentally admitted to Willow that I fantasize about her. Now, technically, she did first, what, with the inappropriate touching and moaning…

…of my name.

But I can't justify telling her just on a technicality, can I?

Willow's my best friend, and we tell each other everything. You know, everything except our deepest, darkest fantasies that would make a _vampire_ blush. I mean, it's not like I can come home from slaying, all 'H and H' (_damn you, Faith. You're in a _coma,_ and you're _still_ right…)_ and take it out on my roommate.

The whole fantasy thing is innocent, though. I mean, I'm a young adult with hormones a-raging, and Willow is the person closest to me in the non-family sense. Even closer than Riley. But just because my subconscious likes to _occasionally_ undress my best friend in my sleep and I would rather spend time with her than my boyfriend doesn't mean I'm in love with her or anything.

I like boys. Not Willow. She's my Willow-shaped friend. _Best_ friend. My sweet little redheaded witch who's so adorable I could just eat her up, and I'm suddenly wondering where that phrase comes from…

Fine, I'll admit Willow does have a hot little body. Flat stomach, firm ass, pert…er…perky smile.

And of course, who wouldn't love Willow in one way or another? She's a very lovable person, all cute and quirky and smart and loving and…okay, so _maybe_ there are feelings there.

But I can't tell her that. I can't just walk up to her and say 'Hey, I feel a thing, you feel a thing, maybe we could have a thing. Wanna grab some Mexican?' It really wouldn't work because, well, Willow doesn't like Mexican. Maybe I could do that thing with my mouth that boys like and it'd work on her, too…wait…no, not _that_ thing! Oh, the naughty images. The happy, happy naughty images.

But, no, that half-smile thing Willow told me I do. Maybe if I do that, it'd give her the message.

When I came home from patrolling, I found her laying across her bed with a book in front of her. Ever the dutiful friend, I threw my jacket on my own bed and plopped down next to her. "Watcha doin'?"

"Invading Normandy," she replied without missing a beat.

I stared at her for few seconds. "History midterm?"

"Yep."

"Ah."

She closed the book and turned towards me. "How was patrol?"

"Dull, Boring. Generally uneventful."

"No poofing for the Slayer, huh?"

Okay, now how did she manage to make 'poofing' sound dirty? I swear the woman _tries_ to drive me crazy. Then, of course, images of the many ways _how_ she could drive me crazy filled my head, and I missed her question. God, I have issues. "What?"

"I asked if you were going to Riley's tonight."

Didn't even consider it. "Nah." Horny and with no desire to go see my boyfriend. Huh. Weird. I noticed Willow was studying me, looking puzzled. "What's up?"

"Your brow got all furrowy when I mentioned Riley. Anything wrong?"

Did she sound hopeful, or was I just imagining that? "No, I just don't feel like seeing him right now. Need to log in my best friend time." Uh huh. No connotations there. Nope, none at all. "So, you want to get working on that oral exam?" She gave me a funny look, and oh, for different phrasing. "_Verbal_ exam. For French."

Her look turned even more confused. "The test isn't for a week."

"And?"

"In all the time I've known you, you've never once studied for a test less than a day before taking it."

Oh. That's what she gave me the funny look for. "Well…uh…some traditions and rules are meant to be broken…in school, and…other…things…"

Willow tilted her head to one side. "You okay, Buff?"

"Peachy with a side of keen," I said a little too enthusiastically. I let out a nervous chuckle. "So…you up for it? Because I am."

"Sure."

I found myself thanking whatever powers were listening that I wasn't a guy, or 'up' would be the operative term.

An hour of rigorous French tongue twisting (er…you know what I mean) passed, and I was no less tense than before. Damn French and its sexiness. My mind began to wander, and for what seemed like the first time that night, it wasn't towards anything of the naughty sort. "You know what I just realized?"

"Uh...what?"

"If we merged our names together, it'd be 'Billy.'" God, I just _had_ to say 'merge,' didn't I? So much for non-naughty thoughts.

Willow looked as if in deep thought. "Or 'Wiffy.'"

I think it was that moment that I knew. I wanted us to be Wiffy. Screw the half-smile thing. On impulse, I leaned over and kissed her. Hard. With tongue. It might have been the haze of desire playing tricks on me, but I think she met me halfway.

"What was that for?" she asked breathless.

Heh, I made Willow breathless. I gave her my best innocent look. "That was me studying for French."

"Oh. Well, that was…" Willow cleared her throat, "some fluent French, there."

I traced patterns on the comforter with my finger, coyly averting my gaze. Oh yeah, I was subtle. "Practice makes perfect, though."

"Of course," she agreed all too eagerly. "What else are best friends for?"

The knowing smile we shared kinda said it all.

_End. Seriously this time._


End file.
